


I'll Fall But I'll Grow

by bloodsugar



Series: Am I Wrong [3]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Bayern München, Borussia Dortmund, Bundesliga, Communication Failure, Lack of Communication, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Betrayal, Pursuit, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 03:02:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2531675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodsugar/pseuds/bloodsugar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Robert starts it slow, and steady. Which in his case means he gets straight to the point. The first text he sends Marco’s new number is ’I’m sorry.’ It is a big step for him to say this, since the only thing he is sorry for is hurting Marco, but predictably there is no answer.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Fall But I'll Grow

 

 

 

_[**I**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bg1sT4ILG0w)f one thing I know, I'll fall but I'll grow_   
_I'm walking down this road of mine, this road that I call **[h](http://footiez.tumblr.com/tagged/lewaneus)** ome_

 

 

 

Robert starts it slow, and steady. Which in his case means he gets straight to the point. The first text he sends Marco’s new number is _’I’m sorry.’_ It is a big step for him to say this, since the only thing he is sorry for is hurting Marco, but predictably there is no answer. He fully expects it to backfire, for Mario to come to him at practice, looking all hurt and to tell Robert how Marco doesn’t speak to him, mad that he he has given Robert his number. When this doesn’t happen, Robert is practically surprised. 

 

So he gives it a couple of days and tries again. _‘I didn’t want to hurt you, and I hate that you ended up being hurt anyway.’_ When a few days go by without Robert receiving an alert about his message not being delivered, Robert starts feeling hopeful. Maybe Marco is reading his messages. Or maybe he is deleting them. But he hasn’t changed his number of blocked Robert’s number, so that’s some type of progress. 

 

One morning, after his early workout, Robert feels bold. He takes his phone and sends perhaps the bravest text he’s sent Marco so far. _‘You forgave Mario, I know you can forgive me too, even if I am no one.’_ This message doesn’t come from Robert dealing with rejection poorly, or even from his reluctance to come second after Mario. But it is only fair to note that both he and Mario are Marco’s friends and ex team mates, and if one receives kind treatment, the other - Robert - should also. In its core, this is a problem of Robert hating to not have any contact with Marco at all; to not have any Marco in his life anymore. It feels wrong, and Robert will be the one to fix it, if only Marco would stop huffing and give him a chance. 

 

Naturally his brave approach gets him nowhere, because he receives no reply for a full week, even after he calls Marco a couple of times as a way to remind the blond that he is waiting for his response. Marco is stubborn, even more so when he has been hurt, but what does he expect Robert to do? Show up at his doorstep in Dortmund with a bouquet of roses, a bottle of wine, and a six foot sign saying ‘Forgive me.’? The feeling of exasperation, initially feeling vague has now become strong and persistent in the back of Robert’s mind.

 

Another five days go by with no response, and then comes his week off thanks to hiatus - no matches or training sessions to keep him in Munich. Robert finds himself on the highway, driving toward Dortmund, a bottle of red wine and a basket of flowers sitting in the backseat of his car.

 

 

Robert’s never been a slow driver by any means, but he makes it to Dortmund in record time, his impatience and eagerness urging him on. It’s only when he gets stuck on a red light when it occurs to him he has given Marco no warning about his arrival whatsoever. He reaches for his phone and then changes his mind mid motion. Perhaps it is better this way, Robert thinks, the element of surprise will give him an edge. Marco can’t avoid something he doesn’t know is coming, and Robert is dead set on being heard this time around. He stops at a gas station and driven by momentary madness purchases a blank A4 size notebook. Back in his car, he rips the back cover off and writes ‘Forgive me.’, re-writing the words again and again until it looks thick and bold, just like Robert is feeling right about now. This is either the bravest or the dumbest thing he has ever planned to do, or perhaps it is both. The lines are looking thinner by the minute. 

 

He drives toward Marco’s place, his foot heavy on the gas, only slowed down by red lights and heavier traffic in some streets. In his mind, the possibility that Marco won’t even be home is definitely there, but it’s evening time already and unless the blond is up for some friend time, he should be home. If he isn’t, Robert will wait for him to come back. Either way, they’re getting reunited today, even if it is in the literal sense only. Robert lingers in his car for long enough to finally book a hotel room - six nights, no breakfast included. In case Marco is hard to get through to again, Robert intends to stay for as long as possible in the city, but doesn’t plan on spending much time in the hotel of all places. He will sit on Marco’s doorstep all day if he has to, or until a policeman asks him to move his car. 

 

Once his reservation is made, Robert takes the flowers (daisies, roses, lilies - arranged beautifully in the medium sized basket) and the wine (2008 Egon Müller Scharzhofberger Spätlese Riesling), and even grabs the little request for forgiveness sign he made in case the drink and the flowers aren’t enough to soften Marco up enough for Robert to finally have a proper conversation with him. He rings Marco’s bell three times, each one extended. His style of ringing, like his mere presence here, says ‘I am here, acknowledge me’. Robert is determined, he will not be denied. 

 

His own impatience practically catches him off guard when a mere couple of seconds waiting for Marco to come to the door feel like en eternity. Robert manages to imagine Marco at a dozen other locations in the short span of time it takes the real Marco to come to the door. Which he does, opening it wide, clearly not expecting to see Robert standing there, balancing a bottle of 100 euro wine, a basket of flowers, and some sign in his arms. His beautiful hazel eyes narrow for a moment as he regards Robert with a look, but then his shoulders relax visibly and he doesn’t tell Robert off, so the older man takes his as a green light. 

 

’’Hi.’’ Robert starts simply, smiling hesitantly at Marco at first, then wider. It’s good to be back in this city, to see Marco in his own home, even if it isn’t under great circumstances. Robert lifts the wine pointedly and hands it to Marco. ’’I brought you this.’’; he raises the flower basket higher in the air, noting the way Marco’s gaze shifts to it and lingers on it for a long moment. ’’And these.’’ Robert says quieter, not daring to hope that Marco’s body language and silence actually mean he’s more agreeable this time around. 

 

’’And what is that?’’ Marco asks about the sign in Robert’s hand, and his voice - low and calm and even, sends a thrill through the older’s chest. Robert has a moment of doubt about whether or not to turn the sign toward the blond, and maybe risk making a fool of himself; but he has come this far, why not satisfy Marco’s curiosity. He hands Marco the flowers, feeling relief when Marco takes the basket, the corner of his mouth twitching a little. Robert, now delirious with the prospect that this won’t be a disaster, sees it as a tiny little smile. He gives Marco the wine as well - which Marco takes too, and then holds the sign with both hands, turned in the blond’s direction. 

 

The moment that extends between them feels cheesy and beyond surreal, but Robert will take it if it means that he doesn’t have to spend tonight coming up with a new plan on how to get on Marco’s good side again.

 

Finally, Marco’s lips tug upward in a definite smile, and he runs his gaze from the sign, up to Robert’s face. Robert smiles back at him, on instinct, taking in Marco’s smile, and the way the younger man looks in general. Robert’s not going to pretend like Marco doesn’t look great with the overpriced flowers and wine Robert purchased in his hands. He is going to stupidly say this out loud when Marco, whilst snorting in amusement, reaches for the sign in Robert’s hands and tilts it sideways until it is upside down. Robert bends forward to see it’s only now been turned with the right side up, which would mean he’d been holding it wrong. So much for not making a fool of himself. 

 

He hesitates whether to ask if he can come in, thinking it’s too bold, and not right, but then Marco pushes the door open further and gives him a calculating, thoughtful look. ’’I’m still upset.’’ he says, his jawline sharp and defined as he frowns. It makes Robert want to go buy a flower shop, or to try and single handedly change the way Bundesliga works - but he can’t do either of these things right now, and one of them not ever, no matter how resourceful he is. He looks at Marco, feeling pretty speechless and helpless, and he is not used to being either of those things.

 

Marco continues. ’’But you can still come in if you want.’’ he says, sounding dubious and careful and a lot of other things the mixture of which makes Robert almost dizzy with the need to just make everything okay. He wants to say ‘You know I want to come in, I want nothing more than that. And you know, if you don’t make me leave anytime soon, that’d be good too. I don’t want care for that empty hotel room waiting for me anyway.’ Instead he just nods and steps in, leaving the sign on the small table by the door. When Marco closes the door, their arms brush together, and this brief physical contact more than anything gives Robert hope that by the time he has to drive himself back to Munich, things will be better. 

 

They have dinner together, in Marco’s kitchen, where Robert has never been for longer than the time it takes him to find himself a beer in the blond’s fridge. This time around, he acts like a polite guest - sits in his seat and doesn’t navigate his surroundings like it’s his own home. This is Marco’s space and Robert feels like retaining self control shows his respect for it. They talk about everything and nothing, the silences surprisingly comfortable, and the conversations more awkward in comparison. They don’t mention Bayern at all, and Dortmund only a little, both of them pretending like this moment exists in time outside of the context of their lives. Obviously untrue, it puts a strain on the atmosphere, but even a dinner with Marco laced with compromised emotions is better than the months of silence between them Robert hated and never wants to re-live again. 

 

That night, after a good meal, and vows of friendship more or less renewed, Robert feels hopeful as Marco walks him to the front door and waits for Robert to get into his car. They exchange a lingering look before Marco closes the door and Roberts starts the engine. 

  

 


End file.
